


and the air's getting thin

by philippcarlyle



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Quite Literally, bisexual circus dads, but i swear it's sweet too, hurt!Phineas, protective!Phillip, the troupe is supportive, there are some tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 12:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philippcarlyle/pseuds/philippcarlyle
Summary: [...]It only takes seconds until everyone is on their feet, sprinting towards the noise that came from somewhere above them. The upper floors of the building are mainly used for storage, as the floors aren’t very stable.aka: There is an accident at the circus and P.T. is missing.





	and the air's getting thin

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt on my tumblr!
> 
> title from Tristan Prettyman "Who We Are"
> 
> Enjoy!

The circus is buzzing with energy. The troupe prepares for the evening show that takes place in about three hours. They twirl through choreographies, set up what they later have to get out in the ring and adjust everything to prevent last minutes stress. Philip bustles around them, mentally going through his checklist of preparations. He needs to tell P.T. that they are slowly getting out of glitter and have to restock on show supplies in general.

It’s then that they hear a horrifying crash. It only takes seconds until everyone is on their feet, sprinting towards the noise that came from somewhere above them. The upper floors of the building are mainly used for storage, as the floors aren’t very stable. He might not be the most athletic, but adrenaline pushes Philip to the front of their group scurrying up the stairs. They stop appalled.

What once was the staircase to the third floors is a mess of wall fragments, dust and splinters. Anne barely stops Lettie in time, otherwise the bearded woman would have stepped right into some broken glass.

“Oh my god. Please tell me no one went up here.”, Constantine breathes.

It’s all it takes to get Philip out of his shocked state.

“Phineas! Can you hear me?!”, he carefully pushes splintered wood to the side and ducks under some sharp metals. There’s glass from the windows and other sharp splitter all over the ground and walls – or what remains of the walls.

“Philip, no, you’re gonna get hurt.”, Lettie tries to pull him back.

“I am getting hurt? P.T. might be dead! Let me go, get down everyone.”

He finds a crack in between the ruins and squeezes through, one arm over his face as to not get any sharp edges into the eyes. On the other side of the burial like slot it is surprisingly bright. Philip can see why and gasps. Half of the roof collapsed with the top floor. Bricks and dust are all Philip sees. Everything else is buried underneath. No.

“Phineas! Are you here? Answer me!”, he struggles forward and pushes parts of the walls and ceiling out of his way. “Phin, don’t you dare to be dead. I’ll find you and I’ll kill you personally.”

Philip is fighting back tears, his whole form is covered in dust and slivers of wood bore into his hands, arms and legs. He needs to find P.T. he has no choice, he needs to.

“Phin! For God’s sake, gimme’ a sign.”, he tells the vacant air around him. Suddenly he hears the softest noise. He swirls around, not caring about the sharp edges and fragile ground. A cough, there it is again. After a few more steps Philip finds himself confronted with what might have been some supporting framework for the building. Philip kneels down, he brushes some of the dirt away and can shove over some crumbly sections of the walls that collapsed.

“Phin, can you hear me? You don’t need to speak, I’m here.”, Philip soothes and carries on to work bricks and pieces out of his way. He reaches what appears to be a small cavity.

“Oh God…okay, no, don’t move. We’ll get you out of there. Oh thank God, you are alive.” Philip has to tear his eyes from the battered body to get his head clear. He forces himself into an analytical state of mind. The floor is to some extend robust, there is enough space to shove away all that covers the circus king beneath.

He jerks away when a strong hand touches his shoulder. It is some of the men from the troupe and what seem to be some fire fighters and a doctor. Numbly Philip nods his thanks. The troupe thought ahead and immediately sought help, when Philip leaped into the danger area.

Philip lets himself be lead out of the destroyed floor, although his eyes remain fixed on the small hollow that prevented P.T. from getting killed.

 

One hour until the show starts. Everyone stands at the arena, hesitant to take any action. It’s Charles, who raises his voice.

“What do we do now? Cancel the show?”, all eyes wander to Philip. The young man might stand right next to them bodily, but his mind is miles away. At the hospital they rushed Phineas to.

“Philip?”, Lettie softly speaks to him directly and steps forward. Only when they are facing each other closely, does his gaze shift and he focuses back on reality.

“What?”, he croaks.

“Yes, we cancel, of course. Go, Philip.”, Lettie decides then and shoos everyone away. O’Malley heads off to close the ticket booth and spread the news that there will be no show tonight. Lettie nudges the young man tenderly as he drifted off again.

“Sorry, Lettie. I- what did you want?”, he sighs and buries his face in his hands. He notices just now all the cuts and bruises along his hands up to his shoulders. There might be more along his back and on his feet. But that’s nothing he feels or cares for.

“I want you to go. No show today. Go to the hospital, we are coming around later too. Maybe not all at once.”, she smiles sympathetically. Philip blinks at her. Once her words sunk in, he speeds out of the doors. Lettie looks after him, before she joins the others. They have a lot of work to do and probably should get out of the building, just to be sure.

Philip reaches the big building faster than he thought was possible. He flies up the stairs, only stops once to ask a nurse, where he is. ‘Who’ she had asked and cost him time, Philip has no patience for discussions. ‘Mr Barnum’. The nurse points down the hallway, while she’s still describing the way, Philip is already taking off.

A white door is his last barrier. And a doctor, an elderly man with glasses.

“Slow down, boy. Can I help you?”

“I need to see him, please. I- is he okay, I need to-“

“Okay, calm down.”, the doctor talks and his voice has a somewhat calming effect. Philip inhales deeply, though still shaky. He nods and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I apologize. I want to see P.T. Barnum, a nurse told me, he is here?”

“That is correct. Are you family?”, the doctor asks.

“Yes. Please, can I go in?” he doesn’t hesitate for a second.

The doctor sighs and nods, but doesn’t step aside. He waits until Philip looks at him again, the young man’s eyes already fixed on the door.

“He got some bad injuries. I think you know that, just, be prepared.” He finally let’s Philip pass.

Philip enters the room quietly, afraid, P.T. might be asleep and doesn’t want to startle him. Antiseptics lay heavily in the air. Philip doesn’t take his time to look at the room, he can’t. All his focus is on the motionless body on a narrow bed. There are some plain stools and Philip gets one to sit down next to P.T. He finds himself unable to sit down. His legs are stuck to the ground, urging Philip to take a good look. He doesn’t want to.

The ringmaster is covered in bandages. Around a patch of gauze on the man’s left shoulder Philip sees large purple bruises, some already yellowing. Angry scratches cover his upper arms, two of his fingers wrapped tightly in more layers of bandage. To some degree Philip is relieved the thin blanket doesn’t allow his eyes to see how Phineas’ body looks farther down. Eventually he sits down and decides to keep his gaze on the man’s face. His jaw is bruised and nose slightly crooked. Philip can only assume he broke it. There’s a cut above his right eye, splitting his eyebrow nearly in the middle. Philip still can’t imagine anything more beautiful, despite all the broken parts and bloody cuts.

Philip props his elbows up on his knees and leans forward. He is prepared to stay here for a while. Maybe fortunately, he is too shocked, to really think about what happened. About what could have happened. As for now, he is grateful, Phineas is alive.

“…’Lip?”

Philip’s head shoots up so fast it hurts his neck. P.T. tilts his head to the side and crookedly grins at the younger man. Philip is unable to reply, he stares.

“…hey. I heard…you thinking.”, he explains and his eyes travel down his body. Philip observes the emotions flitting over the damaged face. Surprise, relief, annoyance, hurt, relief. The circus king finishes his body evaluation, he looks back at Philip. Either Philip says something now, or P.T. might think he froze. Philip still can’t get a sound out, he stares at P.T. and helplessly feels his eyes water. Although his conscious didn’t allow the thought, some part of him must have prepared him to never see or hear the other man speak again. That he lost him forever.

“Am I in…heaven?”, P.T. asks and Philip pulls himself together. He smiles.

“I’m afraid to say no. Welcome back.”, more words than he trusted himself to produce in the first place.

“Because…you said, you-would…kill me. Thought I might…be dead.”

“Th-that was a joke. I was so worried, I didn’t know what to do, what I would do if-“, Philips voice breaks and with it the walls that kept his tears at bay.

“It…is fine. Come here?”, Phineas faintly pleads.

Philip looks him over with hesitance; he doesn’t want to hurt him more. P.T.’s twitching fingers and dark eyes pull him up on his feet although he remains reluctant. He gently sits down at the edge of the bed and let’s his fingers brush over Phineas’ own. The older man sighs.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.”, Philip smiles in spite of the tears rolling over his face in hot streams. The drop on the blanket and Phineas’ wrist.

“I’ll be..okay. Just need…a bit…time. Show…tomorrow?”

Philip gapes at the sly grin the ringmaster dares to wear. He closes his hand around P.T.’s and wipes his tears away with his other hand. He shakes his head and bows down, their noses nearly touching.

“You must be kidding me.”, Philip hiccups through the new tears.

“I’m gonna tie you to this bed if I have to.”, he adds with a grin that develops into a lightened laugh.

“I’d like to…see you…try. Philip?”

“Yes?”

“Come closer.”, P.T. repeats himself and Philip wonders a second too long. As a result, Phineas tugs at his hand and Philip, not wanting to have P.T. move at all and rather rest his body, complies hurriedly. He all but falls into a tender kiss.

“You need to get better, you know? Rest and heal.”, Philip pouts when he draws back. Phineas sighs exasperated, only to groan. Philip concludes that even breathing must hurt him.

“I’m fine. What I need…is you.”, he replies. Philip closes his eyes and places a soft kiss on P.T.’s forehead. He keeps their hands linked together, but get’s back on the stool. He drags it so close he is practically on the bed, but he doesn’t want to strain the hurt man’s body any further.

Two weeks later the troupe is unsettled. Over the last days they put on the show again, Philip came back to take over P.T.’s part and they really needed the money. Luckily some inspectors told them, the building was safe. They spent days sorting through the destroyed upper parts.

Yesterday P.T. announced he won’t stay any longer at that ‘Godforsaken hospital and if he has to crawl out of it’. As it is, Philip doesn’t like the thought of him crawling out there. So he offered to pick him up and they’d make their way to the circus.

During his visits – Philip spent most of his time at P.T.’s side – he registers the full extent of injuries. Despite his snarky attitude, P.T. was far from fine. As he continued to claim so, Philip preferred talking to a doctor. The elder man he met the first day helped him out with some information: Broken nose. Gashes of various degrees on arms, legs and back. Bruised left hand. Remaining scar on the right eyebrow. Bruised rips. Sprained ankle. Possible partial hearing loss on the right ear.

Philip cried again that day.

But today is better. P.T. annoyed Philip for so long, he finally gave in.

“I swear to God, if you move any slower we’re going backwards.”

“Shut up, at least I care about you.”

The troupe shares amused grins, when they hear two familiar voices approaching. Shortly after, Philip pushes the doors open. He supports P.T. with an arm around his waist. For a change, P.T. uses his show cane – to brace himself and do what Philip told him, to treat his body with care.

“You are back!”, Lettie whoops and someone opens up a bottle of champagne.

“Are you serious? No alcohol.”, Philip says and shoots a dark look at Charles, who is in the middle of picking up some glasses.

“What, why?”, P.T. asks and tries to walk the rest of the way without Philip. A stabbing pain in his leg that seems to simmer up to his damaged rips stops him.

“Wait for me, you loser.”, Philip grumbles and nearly lifts P.T. up. They carefully sit down with the others and Phineas continues to cling to Philip for a while. Philip isn’t sure whether it is just to calm his nerves, but he takes it.

“So, you’re back for the next show tomorrow?”, Charles jokes. Philip bites his tongue this time. They are all happy that the show master is out of the hospital and doing comparatively well.

“Ah, I fear, I can’t.”, P.T. grins and wants to reach out. The champagne might be forbidden, but the troupe put a lot of effort into a little table full of snacks, such as sandwiches, some biscuits and fruit.

“No, you stay, where you are.”, Philip stops him and gently draws him closer. When he is sure, P.T. won’t move, he grabs some food and hands it over. P.T. rolls his eyes.

“Honestly, every sentence of yours starts with ‘no’ nowadays.”, the older man teases and takes a bite of the apple Philip got him. “Do you wanna feed me too?”

“This is not funny. Please be careful.”, Philip grumbles.

P.T. just laughs and loops his arm around Philip. The younger man doesn’t meet his eyes and listens to the troupe talking. Well, he tries. He has to concentrate to not overanalyse Phineas. His shoulder and ribs are gradually getting better. Some gashes bled again yesterday. Philip knows now how to switch and apply bandages. They can’t do much about the ankle, except for using the cane.

“Hey, Philip. Dear, you’re a greater mother hen than I am.”, Lettie grins at him.

“I, what?”, Philip murmurs. He must have done what he tried to avoid. He tears his eyes from Phineas and turns to Lettie with pink dusted cheeks. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. We just talked about the next weeks and that it might get a bit complicated.”

“How so?”, Philip wonders and fully engages in the topic.

“Well, with P.T. back-“

“Wait what? Don’t tell me you want him back in the ring now, I-“

“Yes, hello. I am here too, ‘Lip.”, P.T. intervenes. Philip simply puts his hand over the man’s mouth, then turns back to Lettie with an accusing glare.

“Are you insane?”

“No, you didn’t listen to me. The problem is, with P.T. out of the hospital you’ll look out for him constantly. Are you able to leave him alone for the shows and rehearsals?”, Lettie asks, because she knows Philip too well.

“Uhm…-ew, hey!”, Philip pulls back his hand, P.T. licked at that moment.

“Calm down, you need to rest.”, P.T. dismisses Philip’s response with a lopsided grin. He assumes rightly Philip hates this attitude. Especially because Philip might be consequent with health care, but in reality he can’t deny the show man anything. Insulted, the younger man leans back.

“We’ll figure something out, don’t worry. Tonight is supposed to be fun, not worries.”, P.T. announces and gains approving toasts from everyone who got some champagne anyway.

“So, what’s been going on?”, P.T. asks. He knows most of the happenings of course, as he got visits from them every other day. It is still nice to share stories and smile together. P.T. falls back against Philip’s side and suppresses a pained exhale. Maybe he should be a bit more careful. As if Philip has read his mind, he pulls the ringmaster closer and – when he made sure he sits comfortable and so that it’s good for his shoulder and leg – fits himself against the man’s side.

They talk late into the night, Philip laughs here and there, when he pays attention. Which is not too often, because he is focused on Phineas. The injured man talks as excited and dramatic as ever, eats some more and laughs at stories from Anne and W.D. Philip allows himself to relax a little.

Everyone seems content and the night really turns out better, than Philip expected it. Not that he didn’t trust the troupe to organize a nice evening, but he thought it might get more exhausting. It is on the contrary very easy-going. The topics shift, switch and always remain light-hearted. Philip feels his mind wander and quickly notices P.T. wears a similar expression. The taller man turns and slumps down. Philip first thinks it is to relieve some pressure from his leg. While that might be a reason, it was clearly not the reason. Philip sighs and attempts to conceal a pleased smile when Phineas places feather-light kisses on his neck and jaw. He weaves his fingers through the dark hair and closes his eyes.

Philip feels P.T.’s kisses getting longer and slower and slightly nudges him. He doesn’t want to cause a scene. When P.T. stops his actions and simply lays his head on Philip’s shoulder, the younger man grins. Non-verbal communication appears to work. He looks down on Phineas and notices the man has fallen asleep.

“You two are way too adorable.”, Lettie declares. Philip grins embarrassed, but doesn’t stop caressing P.T.’s curls. He sighs contently. They would make it work and P.T. would get better. They just had to take their time.


End file.
